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A Blazing Star
Hi! So, this is a fanfic about Blaze by Foxlover16. It was going to have chapters, but I decided against it. Enjoy! :D It was supposed to be me. When my sisters died, I was supposed to be queen. I was supposed to rule the SandWings with justice and peace. I was supposed to prove to everyone that I was a strong, beautiful queen who would have a long, happy reign without caving into Glacier's every word, even though I myself wasn't sure that I wouldn't. That was the deal. Me being queen safely, my sisters dead. NOT some weirdo called Thorn coming out of nowhere and becoming queen. Definitely not being stripped of my title as princess, given a tiny amount of the beautiful jewelry I once owned (apparently the rest was donated to "charity"), and getting tossed into the desert with no money, no food, and no idea what just happened. I should have been the new, awesome, beautiful queen of the SandWings. And instead of being the top dragon, I'm at the lowest position I can imagine. "Get up!" I'm startled awake, released from a nightmare where Blister is attacking me, but whenever I slash back at her, she turns to black dust and suffocates me. Burn is there, too, with a bunch of dragonbite vipers, cheering Blister on, while the snakes slowly slither up to me and wrap around my limbs, immobilizing me, and Blister is smiling creepily, and she somehow got some knives, no, is made of knives and blood and every bit of jewelry I've ever owned, and all I can feel is fear, fear, fear, until I'm broken out of the reverie. A gruff voice is yelling at me, telling me that I'm late and my shift has already started and if I don't come down NOW, there's going to be trouble. I moan in response and the voice growls something unintelligible and stalks away. I toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to get in a little bit more beauty sleep, but it's pointless, I'm already awake. I step off of the jagged wood plank that is apparently my bed and walk over to the grimy mirror that I bought with one of my remaining three pieces of jewelry. Sure enough, the nightmares and rude awakening have taken their toll. My scales are dry and brittle, my obsidian black eyes don't have their usual sheen, I have bags under my eyes, and worst of all, the scars Blister gave me are peeling. I am a wreck. The harsh voice shouts at me again, saying that if I am not down there in ten minutes, he will personally drag me down. I use those full ten minutes to my advantage- putting on a face mask to remove the bags, moisturizing my scales, staining my claws an attractive shade of orange with juice from a cactus flower, applying a layer of makeup to hide the scars, and best of all, putting on my remaining treasure: a ruby that fits perfectly into my tail barb, and some slim-fitting decorative chain mail body armor, made with triangular black chain links and studded with diamonds. I check my reflection in the mirror before heading down. Smashing! I fly down the stairs, entering the room with a smile. If I am going to waste my life away down here, I am at least going to be happy while doing it. I make roasted lizards. I work at a factory that makes dried and roasted lizards, some of the most popular SandWing foods. There are five jobs here- drying, roasting, packaging, or catching the lizards, and supervising the drying, catching, packaging, and roasting. I help roast the lizards, because I'm terrible at hunting, don't have the precision for packing,you have to juice lizards before you dry them, which I always make a mess of, and apparently I don't have the experience, brains, or authority for supervising. This always makes me want to shred a cactus with my bare claws- maybe I don't have experience, but I used to be a princess! I have plenty of authority! I realize that shredding a cactus will just get me a talonful of needles. Maybe I am as stupid as everyone says I am. As I stroll into the roasting room, I am thrown a lot of resentful looks. That's one thing I'll never get used to- the hatred, the fury. It used to be that whenever I would walk into a room, dragons would immediately bow down. Now I'm lucky if they even acknowledge my presence. I get into line, catching some envious and infuriated looks hurled towards my jewels. A hazy memory of a lesson with one of my tutors comes to mind. My tutor is telling me that most dragons don't even have a fraction of the treasure the royal family has. Since I've never understood fractions (or any math, for that matter), this made little impact on me. But I get that queens have much more money than everyone else does. Maybe that's another reason dragons hate me so much, because I was so rich but only ever spent the money on gems and parties, while so many of them spent their only coin on a strip of beef, and I never had to buy food. When I was hungry, I had simply to ring a bell and some servants (or lately, with the war and all, some enslaved MudWings, SkyWings, or SeaWings) would bring me a steaming platter of camel meat that I never even finished. The leftovers were tossed in a garbage can or buried in an snowbank. Not one scrap ever went to the servants or slaves that brought it to me. Not to the prisoners of war, not tossed into desert or ice for the common dragons to find and eat. Always into the disposal chute, never finding its way into the bellies of the dragons who needed it most. And now I'm one of those dragons. No wonder everyone hates me."You're an hour late," sneers Lynx, the dragon who works next to me. "Which means you get to work an extra two ''hours." "How is that fair?" I grumble as I slide into line and blast ten lizards with flame. She picks them up, checks them over, scorches the bits I missed, and hands the lizards to a male SandWing who expertly wraps them up in ten separate coconut shells. "You didn't do what you promised to do. Now you've got to do that, plus some to prove that you deserve this job and aren't a lazy brat more concerned with her own beauty than her job." From her tone, it's obvious what she believes. I'm offended, even though she's right. But she seems to be waiting for some kind of reaction, and I won't let her have the satisfaction of getting it. Instead I shut my mouth and quietly do my work, lucky that the heat evaporates my tears. Lynx is right, though, isn't she? I'm nothing more than a silly, self-centered dragoness. I don't care about anything except myself. I don't have any friends or allies. Even Queen Glacier is mad at me, because her dragons were killed and she gained nothing. Everywhere, dragons call for my blood. SandWings whose families have died because of me. SkyWings and MudWings and SeaWings and IceWings who didn't want to be dragged into a world war. Even the RainWings will never let me join them, because their queen hates me. Going to the Scorpion Den would be like begging all the assassins the Sand Kingdom to kill me. I'll never belong. I'm surprised I've been allowed to work here. I sigh. My beauty will disappear into thin air if I continue to live here. My breath will stink of lizard. My scales will be crusted with sand. I'll look tired, worn, and sad. I'll be…''ugly. ''That sealed the deal. I've got to get out of here. I jump when the gong sounds. Time to go home. I start to rise, but Lynx shoves me back down. "Not you. You're working for a couple more hours. Just put the lizards into that hollow cactus over there. Mesquite and I will take care of them early." She flounces away with the male SandWing. "Unlike ''some dragons, we like to get on the manager's good side." I flinch at Lynx's parting shot, trying to think up a witty retort of my own, but I'm too slow, too stupid. I flame so hard at the lizards that the sand around them turns into glass. I pick up a lizard. It crumbles to ash in my talon. Great. I mix the cinders into the sand and store the glass under the lizard stack. It'll spruce up my room. I blast the lizards, more carefully now, and place them into the cactus. I have to get out of here. My pay is pitiful, everybody hates me, and I'm slowly becoming ugly. I can steal a few dried and roasted lizards for food, and sell my tail ruby for a camel-hide water pouch and fill it at an oasis. I'll have to pay the water, too. That will take most of my meager wages from the lizard factory. I sourly recall how when I was a princess, I wouldn't have to pay for any of that. I consider my makeup supply, but I know I can't bring it. My mirror and jewelry will have to do for beauty. I look back at the cactus, filled to the brim with lizards. Why not leave now? I can take these lizards with me, even though the dried type is way better. It'll be easier to escape while the other employees are doing their own thing- these two hours of working on the lizards is actually time I should be spending on washing away my makeup and having a silent party. No one will think to look for me until morning, if they care enough to waste time doing so. I made up my mind and grabbed the lizards before hightailing it out of there. I'm terrified. All the ordinary SandWing booths have closed, leaving me with two options: Embark into the wilderness with some roasted lizards and no water, or get water from the Scorpion Den. Steeling myself, I creep into the home of lowlifes and criminals. I didn't think anyone would instantly recognize me, but the moment my front talon hit the dusty ground of the city, all eyes were on me. I realize my diamond chain mail was still on. Too late to remove it now. I inch over to a stall selling water skins and snag one, slapping my money down in front of him. I check my bottle. Thank the moons, it's already full. I sidle towards the exit, hoping I might escape when rough talons grab me and a claw is slapped over my mouth, muffling my attempt at a scream. I can feel a sort of pouch clutched in the claws of my capturer. A sharp pain pricks my scales, and I realize the pouch is filled with knives, bladed discs, and who knows what else. This is getting serious. I'm dragged, kicking and struggling, into a deserted stall. A cold, sharp blade is pressed against my neck. I close my eyes tightly, willing myself to wake up, but this is no nightmare. The knife slices deep into my throat. A blinding pain, a staggering headache, and my blaze has been extinguished. I am released from this miserable existence. I am no more. Epilogue Lynx smiled coldly. Oh, Blaze. So young, so pretty, so easy to kill. As one of the Scorpion Den's best assassins, Lynx had been surprised to get such a simple job. However, she was getting paid more than usual for it. The dragon ripped off Blaze's armor, fitted it over herself, and tossed the ruby in her barb onto the sand. Neither dragoness had any use for it anymore. Lynx scooped the former princess into a sack and slunk out of the Den. She had some wages to collect. Category:Content (Foxlover16) Category:Fanfictions Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon) Category:Fanfictions (Completed)